


In the Shire Reckoning: 1419: Night Before Pelennor

by Thuri



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-27
Updated: 2003-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thuri/pseuds/Thuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry reflects</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shire Reckoning: 1419: Night Before Pelennor

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://sunhawkaerie.livejournal.com/profile)[**sunhawkaerie**](http://sunhawkaerie.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Birthday mathom for [](http://shirasade.livejournal.com/profile)[**shirasade**](http://shirasade.livejournal.com/) Her request was: _– Merry/Pippin of course! Inspired by one of my wallpapers maybe?_. Wallpaper is [here](http://www.just-in-dreams.com/fanfiction/pictures/merry-warrior.jpg). It has spoilers, by the way. And that is an actual quote from ROTK. Their relationship is soo canon.

_"Merry wanted somebody to talk to, and he thought of Pippin. But that only increased his restlessness. Poor Pippin, shut up in the great city of stone, lonely and afraid. Merry wished he was a tall rider like Eomer and could blow a horn or something and go galloping to his rescue."_  
– Lord of the Rings, Book V, Chapter 5: The Ride of the Rohirrim

Merry shifted restlessly to and fro under his blanket. He knew he should rest, should sleep. But he also knew what the morning would bring. He'd been close enough to hear the captains, and the news the out riders brought the king. Tomorrow they would reach the city. Tomorrow they would take the field. Tomorrow, many would die.

_'And like as not I'll be among them,'_ he thought gloomily. _'I shouldn't have come. I'll be no use, and am liable to hinder.'_ But again his thoughts turned to Pippin, trapped behind stone walls, and his fists clenched. _‘I have to try. For him.'_

He turned over again, listening to the quiet breathing of the riders around him. He wondered at the ease with which they slept. His own mind was too full of thoughts, of worries, of distractions. And too used to having Pippin beside him. _'Oh, Pip. Where are you right now? What are you doing?'_

He sat up, eyes straining against the darkness. There was nothing to see. Only huddled shapes against the ground, and the darker masses of trees. No campfires, not this close to the enemy. Nothing to give away their position. Merry shifted, leaning his back against the trunk of the tree he'd been laying under. He pushed a hand through his hair, swearing silently as it caught in tangles caused by the unfamiliar rubbing of his helm. The thought of working them out was too much, and he let his hand fall back to rest on the helm, beside his blankets.

He picked it up, turning it over and over. His fingers traced the nose guard, the leather-covered metal, the pattern of horses. What would Pippin think, if he saw him now? What would he make of it? Merry knew he little resembled the young lad he'd been. Even if the journey, if what he'd been through, hadn't shown in his face, the very clothing he wore would tell the tale. No, not clothing. Armor. He was arrayed for battle, ready to fight. To fight and perhaps die. Leather, dyed and tooled, laid over bronze, forming a breast plate. Bracers, more red leather over metal, decorated with horses.

He set the helm down again, beside the bracers and soft leather gloves. His fingers twitched toward his sword hilt, and he pulled them back. It had become second nature, to hold the hilt for comfort. Yet a hobbit should not find comfort in such a thing. _'But I'm not a hobbit now,'_ he thought to himself. _'A rider of Rohan, maybe, though I share a horse unnoticed. A king's esquire, certainly, though he thinks I'm far away.'_

A heavy sigh caught in his throat. _'And what is Pippin, at this hour? What has happened to him, in that city? I know Gandalf will keep him safe, but . . .'_ He wished desperately that they could be together. He remembered his wish of the night before. That he could be tall and strong, and rescue Pippin from the besieged city. It had not faded. _'I've always taken care of him. Always looked out for him. Protected him. And now I can't. I don't even know what he's doing.'_

Merry realized with a shock that it had been almost ten days since they'd parted. Ten days since he'd seen Pippin, since he'd held him. _'Too long. So much could have happened. And now I'm off to war, to fight the enemy. And he is trapped by them. What's to become of us?'_

And they'd parted in anger. Merry had tried, tried very hard not to let Pippin see just how badly his foolishness had scared him. But his voice had shaken, his jaw had tightened; Pippin knew him well enough to recognize the signs. _'If I'd known Gandalf would take him away, if I'd known I may never see him again . . .'_ But he hadn't known, and the words had spilled from his lips unchecked.

"You're angry, aren't you Merry?" Pippin had asked, shivering.

He'd forced a smile, pulling Pippin to him to still his shaking. "No, Imp. Not really."

"Yes, you are." Pippin had countered. "You should be. I was stupid."

Merry had sighed as Pippin pulled away from him. "Yes, you were." he agreed.

Pippin's eyes had darkened again, and he nodded once. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Pip." Merry had closed his eyes against the look on Pippin's face. "You always are," he'd muttered.

"I'm . . . What do you mean, Merry?"

"Nothing." Merry had said quickly, but then relented. He _was_ angry, and had thought it would be easier to get the argument over with. "Just that you never think. I told you to let it go until morning. I would have helped you, then. And if you'd just asked, Gandalf would have told you. But you didn't ask. You didn't think. Why did you have to do it?"

"I don't know!" Pippin was near tears. "I don't know," he'd repeated, much softer. "I couldn't stop myself. And you were no help, just turning over and going to sleep." His voice had quieted, and he had turned away. "I am sorry, Merry. And I wish I'd listened to you." He'd paused. "I knew you were angry."

"You scared me, Pip. You scare me every time you do something like this. It makes me worry that someday you're going to get into something I can't get you out of. That no one can get you out of." He'd shuddered, remembering some of the messes Pippin had been responsible for. "If you'd just use your head every now and then, this kind of thing wouldn't happen. I know you're smart. But you can be an awful fool sometimes."

Pippin's voice had shaken as he turned back to Merry and tried to form a reply. "I . . ."

The shadow of the Nazgul had cut off Pippin's words, and Gandalf had spirited him away so quickly that Merry had time to do no more than press his hand in farewell. He'd complained to Strider, needing some outlet for his anger and fear. His words were flippant, as he'd thought they'd be waiting at Edoras. Then Strider told him Gandalf meant to take Pippin with him to Minas Tirith, so many leagues away.

Merry had regretted his words ever since. He knew Pippin wouldn't hold them against him. It wasn't his way. But now, the night before a battle that could easily claim his life, he was consumed with the wish that he could change the last words he'd spoken to his love.

_'But Legolas promised to tell him, if he saw him first. Promised to tell Pip that I love him. That I'm sorry. So he'll know, even if I never see him again.'_ The possibility of his own death should have scared him more, he thought. But the only thing he could find to regret was losing the opportunity to see Pippin one last time.

He was surprised by a yawn, as if this realization was what his mind had been waiting for. Settling back into his blankets, he looked up through the leaves at the starless sky. "I love you, Impling," he murmured and finally slept. Dawn would bring an end to it, one way or the other. Merry would find him, or die.


End file.
